An Act of Piracy: When You're Like This
by Pierate
Summary: Pirates of the Caribbean, Curse of the Black Pearl fanfiction. Captain Jack Sparrow and the Elizabeth Swann are trapped on the little island Jack was previously marooned on. There is naught but rum, a big fire - And the little voices in Jack's head...
1. When You're Like This

A soft breeze brushed his cheek. The fire was roaring, it heated his face up and left a warm, red glow on his chest. There was a smell of smoke and burned wood in the cool night air, and . . . And rum. He felt his heart skip a beat as he heard her warm, rum-soaked laughter in the distance. It was unusual, of course, and inappropriate, he could imagine Will – or even the former Elizabeth – would say. He smirked at the thought of her face, the way she would glare at him and hiss his favourite word through her white, pearly teeth: Pirate. He had often heard this word, spoken to him in many voices. A soft whisper, like when the wind runs through the bushes, an agry cry echoing through his mind and leaving a numb feeling of guilt in him, or even, he sometimes caught himself thinking, lovingly, a silent, but at the same time interrogating voice, talking to him through her eyes. Lizzie had so many voices, so many faces. He didn't think he could go through with his plan this time. At all.

He felt a soft breeze close to his back as she took another turn around the fire: ". . . and really bad eggs, drink up me hearties, yo ho!" It was unusual to see her like this. So . . . happy. Her skirt was carelessly swinging around her in the wind, as she swayed a little, happily trying to regain balance, arms bashing the air, as though she was trying to take off towards the starry skies. She was a bird to him, and she'd finally come out of her cage. A real sparrow.

- Tell me, darling, he thought to himself, - how could I hurt you when you're like this?

And with a sad grumble he got to his feet, swaying only a little more than usual as he arose. Rum. Quickly, with much experience, he snatched the bottle from the warm sands and opened it with his teeth. Turning towards her, he could now see her. She was singing, singing the song which had recently, actually in this very moment, become his favourite, his song, and he caught himself thinking of sirens out of greek mythology as she drew closer – still singing – and he knew that he was now trapped in a cage, just as well as she had just as recently escaped one. Her cage. She took the last dancing step towards him and stopped right in front of him as if on cue. She stole his breath the very moment they together drew their first breath of the clean night air. It was a bright night, starry and delicately breezy. Jack did not notice. The only thing that mattered in the world was _her_. And _rum_. And The Pearl. And vengeance on the rum-soaked deckhands what took off with his ship. . . ! But never mind that now. _She_ was here. He was here. And they had rum. Plenty of rum. So _why _was he not happy? It ached inside of him when he thought of what he would have to do before sunrise. He couldn't bear the thought. He saw her light, pure dress, her familiar face, her deep, brown eyes, teasingly telling him that he hardly knew her yet. That there was so much more to Elizabeth Swann, be it pirate, woman and everything, there was more to be found in her than what met the eyes.

She was challenging him to know her. Sometimes it drove him mad, and a little voice in his head whispered: "She doesn't know. She doesn't know who she's dealing with, who she's teasing, who she's driving out of his mind just by being here. She doesn't know. . . Bloody wench." But another voice rang out louder and more truthfully: "Oh but she does. Don't think she doesn't look at you and see you for who you are. She knows. The question is: Do you?"

How he hated that voice. It had often costed him another bottle of rum to have that voice visit, it drove him mad, and so he drank, hoping the delicate poison would cure him of this madness. But it didn't, and the voice grew in his head, bred by fear. Because he couldn't stand the idea that she teased him, knowing very well who he was. A pirate. Because he didn't like to think of how much he cared for her, fearing she would not care for him, even as a friend. That he would be left to fall, deeper and deeper. That she wouldn't catch him. But the _real_ reason why he hated _this_ voice inside his head, he was trying to hide from himself.

Because for the first time in his life, Captain Jack Sparrow was afraid of the truth.


	2. Plunge

As they sat down on the sand, a stone's throw from the fire, he felt her arm accidentally brush his chest, and fliched slightly before falling dizzily onto the wam sand. He carefully glanced sideways, and in the corner of his eye he could see Elizabeth, sitting on the beach under a starry sky, her beautiful but weathered hair curiously playing with the wind. There was a distant look in her eyes, as they trailed the horizon. They had not eaten much for two days now. He could not lie to himself. When Lizzie was trailing that horizon she wasn't like him at all, thinking about all the adventures to come, remembering days of great deeds, scallywags, battles, plundering and piracy. She was hoping to see white sails on the horizon. Probably longing to see her dear William again. His stomach turned and twisted at the thought of him. He felt guilty for his feelings toward the one the whelp would willingly give his life for.

"Don't worry!" a voice spoke in his mind, "It's just another act of piracy! You're a pirate! It never bothered you persuading any of those wenches in Tortuga . . ."

"That was different," another voice in his head argued, "this one is different. You really care about her, don't you, Jackie?" How he hated that voice.

"Stop it! Stop it! Shush!"

This time it was his own voice.

"Jack?"

He suddenly found Elizabeth to be looking at him with a mixture of fright and . . . was it worry? in her eyes.

"I said that out loud, didn't I." He looked around, confused, avoiding her captivating eyes.

His words seemed to calm her, and he imagined her thoughts: "Ah, it was just Jack being silly again. A little stranger than usual though, but then, not eating can have that effect on pirates. No rum would likely be worse, though. I wish we didn't have to starve to death."

He turned his gaze to the horizon and moved a little closer to her just to feel her warm skin against his arm. This moment would soon be over. And she would not give a care in the world. Nor would he.

"Are you in love with me, Jack?"

His heart seemed to be bouncing around his body by the sound of those words. Coming from her. He did not know what to say.

"Lizzie, I..."

She turned to him, put her finger on his lip and looked him straight in the eyes. He was falling . . .

"I've always liked you as a friend" . . . and falling . . .

"Anything else would be inappropriate" . . . and falling . . .

"But things have changed. I have changed." . . . and falling . . .

"You've been here all along. In my mind. In my heart." . . . slower now . . .

"I've watched your every step on deck as you strolled across. The way you caress her rudder at sunrise just to say good morning. I've come to know you, Jack. I've watched you, know your steps better than my own. And now I know, that..." She paused. "I've always loved you, Jack."

. . . and she caught him. He was safe in her cage. For now.


	3. Intentions

The day had long grown old, withered and fallen into its grave behind the horizon. The stars had come up to shine down upon the fierce ship which in this moment sailed the Caribbean waters in search of some lost treasure. This was all James Norrington knew. This, and that he would never stop looking until he had found the treasure. Partly because he would not have it said of him that he was a coward or the sort of person who found a golden coin on the street and then, drunken as he was, would forget all about the treasure chest full of rubies, gold and silver, because he had found something else to keep his mind on. This was all James Norrington knew as his boots made a loud knocking-noise across the deck of the starlit vessel: Nobody could replace Elizabeth, he would never love another woman, and so he had to find her. And when he did, he would let no pirate nor sailor stand in his way of taking her as his wife. She would be happy with him, and he would do _anything _to make her happy, and keep her happy. He smiled at the stars, as his heart felt sure that he would soon be with her – and that she would love him back. He was, after all, worthy of her hand in marriage. It was as though this security that he would have her was enough to keep the ship sailing. It was the wind in his sails, it kept him afloat, and he would like to keep it that way. This is the reason why James Norrington felt a shiver down his spine as he noticed the brightests star in the sky and felt destiny's cold touch. The stars seemed to whisper to him that he would never stop searching for Elizabeth Swann – not until he had her for his own or died trying.

Birds and crickets chirped in the jungle, leaving that quiet solitary feeling on the beach. Jack thought his heart was going to jump right up his throat, warm and pumping it would soon skip too many heartbeats and jump right up his throat, out his mouth and he would be left bleeding, crying for help, but not wanting it bad enough to stick his piraty heart back into his chest. Somehow he wanted it. Somehow he actually _wanted_ his own black heart to jump out his throat, beating, throbbing, bleeding and fragile as it would be. He wanted this so bad because he wanted her to _know_ how he felt about her. He wanted to make sure she _knew _that she was not just another wench, and he was _aching _to kiss her warm, soft lips and hold her close to him. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but every time he opened his mouth to talk to her, he suddenly had the sorest throat in the history of the life of Jack Sparrow, and it felt like somebody had jammed his goddam throat by stuffing it with his own insides. So he decided not to tell her, hoping she would already know that he knew that he wanted her to know what he felt for her.

The Pearl sailed against the Caribbean wind with such ease as William Turner had never before experienced. He could not help but marvel at the ship's strength, even as he was kept captive below deck in a prison cell. It was dark in here. Very little light would go through the bars. He leaned against the bars, head clutched in his hands, letting out an annoyed groan. He was stuck in this cell, with nothing to do but wait, watching the rats run to and fro across the wooden planks, making a scratching noise as they went. It was damp and chilly below deck, and everything seemed to have lost its purpose. Will's eyes were blood shot and tired, he had not slept much, and his back ached. But the pain he felt on his body was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside his chest. He had been sitting up every night, listening to the rats' rattling, thinking of how he would probably never see Elizabeth again, and how both their lives would soon come to an end. The thought drove him crazy. Last time someone close to him had died, it had been his mother. He had never really gotten over it, had buried it within himself, trying to get over it. What Will Turner had never realised was that he had not forgotten about his mother. He had never gotten over the loss. He had taken it to himself and made it a part of him. It had turned him into someone more independent, more of a loner, more of a solitary person. He never realised that when he was all alone and a stunning silence creeked in his mind, it was because of the loss of his mother. The loss had made him independent in his decisions, but it had also made him seek comfort. He had a hard time committing himself to others, though, afraid to ever lose them. But with Elizabeth... It was different. She had always been there, and somehow, Will had come to believe that she always would be there. Now, as he sat down on the hard planks of The Black Pearl, realising that she was not invincible, Will felt an incredible solitude shaking through him. He realised that she was vulnerable and fragile as a lily, blossoming in the spring, petals falling and crushed to the ground in the autumn. He wanted to catch the petals before they hit the muddy ground below. He wanted to rescue her, hold her to him and make sure she was alright, to protect her from all harm. And when he was around her, he felt that she too could protect _him_ from harm. That when she was with him, he could live on forever. Returning to reality from his thoughts he let out an angry shout, smashing his fist into the bars. He didn't care about the pain it caused him. He didn't care about anything. Without her he was nothing. Somehow she had become everything in the world worth having. This was all William Turner could think of as he sat in the darkest corner of the ship's prison area, sobbing and whispering to the shadows that he would not survive without Elizabeth Swann, and since he was not with her, his life would soon come to an end.


	4. At a loss

While stars shone brightly in a dark, endless sky, William Turner came closer to spilling his blood, closer to meeting his own end. James Norrington came closer to finding his dear Elizabeth, and Captain Jack Sparrow came closer to losing his mind – Compelled by the voices in his head to take action soon: One of them urging him to end this, the other one _begging_ him to begin it. He knew they were both wrong. There was no way out of this dilemma – Not even for Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Just do it. It'll soon be over. She won't know a thing."

"But you have feelings for her! Now be a good man and show it."

"Who are you kidding, you don't have feelings for her! Sure, you can't stop thinking about her, your heart is beating faster when she's around, she's an incredible woman and it pains you that you might never know what..."

Jack stopped listening. The voices where now just muffled fragments inside his head, a buzzing that would soon fade out. The crackling noise from the fire logs against the silence of the night, muffled by the voices in his head seemed almost eerie to his ears. He found himself completely lost, confused, and positively crazier than ever.

Suddenly the muffled voices in his head faded out and disappeared... Yet Jack was not happy. And another voice soon replaced the muffled voices. This voice would hear of no compromise, it would not leave him in peace before he had made his decision. It rang the louder inside his head, made him get flashbacks and made the real world around him on the beach swirl around in circles in the sky.

Jack sat on the beach, where the real noises were those of a roaring fire, waves rolling in from the ocean and the voice of the fair Elizabeth, who was desperately trying to reach him. But Jack Sparrow was out of reach - elsewhere. He could feel the very familiar wooden planks of the Pearl below his feet, and he saw the light of day chase the starry sky away. He was back on the Pearl, and he knew why. His mind wanted him to be here. Somebody in there, as he liked to think, had dragged his thoughts back into the past. But why? What good would come of it? Jack soon understood that _his _mind - "Whichever one of them that is," as he thought to himself - was trying to tell him something.

He was back on the Pearl. Blood rushed through his veins; he could feel his heart beat, singing happily. Freedom! He had it.

In a split second things went out of hand. He did not know who he was, and where he was at. He found himself questioning whether he was dead or alive. The cold breeze blew on his face, and he felt and urge to take this all in while he could. He would probably die soon.

He knew this because he could see himself. He pondered at this, figuring that he must have either completely lost his mind or left his body, the latter being more likely. She had probably killed him. Oh, the irony.

He watched himself converse with Barbossa.

_Seeing as there's two of us, a gentleman would give us a pair of pistols._

Jack felt his heart violently beat against his chest . He remembered this. All to clearly. He was missing something.

A dizziness came over him, he felt as though someone was pulling him down into the ship's cargo hold by the navel, and as he felt himself sink deeper and deeper, all he could think of was Elizabeth... in her white gown, shining brightly beneath a starlit sky. All Jack could do was feel the scent of the wooden planks of The Pearl fading into naught but a hazy memory.

"Jack? Jack!"

He recognized her voice immediately, and it was the only thing that could get him to open his eyes ever again in this moment. He felt enormously depressed, and his head was aching. He was still dizzy.

"Oh, thank God you're back! I thought... I was afraid..."

Jack looked up, curiously, and saw the grave concern in her face – and the joy that he was back. She looked at him, mouth opening and closing, trying to say something, but then decided not to.

"Well, you're back now. You shouldn't drink so much, really."

But Jack knew that he hadn't been drinking enough to be feeling and seeing what he had just seen and felt. It was within him, and his own words were playing on repeat inside his mind.

"_S__eeing as there's two of us, a gentleman would give us a pair of pistols."_

He was missing something. But he had _no idea_ what it was. He looked at Elizabeth. God, she really was beautiful. He felt himself drawn to him in a way he had never felt drawn to any other woman. It was unusual for him, but the sensation was burning hot inside him, like the roaring fire they had danced around. He was missing something. But he had _no idea_ what it was.

"_Oh, I think you know."_

The little voice in his head had _completely_ surprised him, and he found himself jumping.

Elizabeth looked at him, shocked: "What? What is it, Jack?" Concern was in her voice. Jack stared straight into the cold air. "Nothing. Just the wind." But the voice came back:

"_Sorry Jack, but you have to admit it_ _to yourself. You __**know**__what's missing. Think about it."_

Jack saw the sky swirl around above him and then beneath him, the many white stars creating bright, glowing spots that would not go away when he closed his eyes. He found himself talking out loud.

_No, I do not know what you are talking about. _He carefully pronounced the words.

_Jack, you're missing something._

_I don't know..._

_You're missing something..._

_I don't... _

_Missing..._

But suddenly he knew, and knew he had known it all along. He heard a hoarse voice in his head, as the stars kept spinning beneath his feet...

_It'll be one pistol as before and you can be the gentleman and shoot the lady and starve to death yourself._

And another voice inside his head answered to the horrified feelings he was discovering in the last bit of his mind that was left:

_You were missing something._


	5. Choosing sides

**Chapter 5: Choosing sides**

Night. The air was getting colder. He was sitting awake, watching Elizabeth as she slept. He knew he had to make a decision. He had to leave her. How else could he escape this? He had to leave her to survive himself. Her dear father would surely hang him if he found him here, all rum-soaked and dirty, knowing that a filthy pirate like him – he shuddered at the risk of having those words said to his face once more – had spent the night on this island with his daughter. The fact that nothing had happened between them wouldn't matter to him. He would be angry. Furious. And he would direct it all at Jack.

Nothing had happened between them. Nothing. Was this true? Jack looked at Lizzie lying on the sand, her hair curled across her face, all tugged in in his own coat. To keep her warm. Had she not smiled at him? Looked at him like she knew everything he felt for her. And yet she smiled. Just a sweet, simple smile. Like she didn't care. Like it didn't matter to her that he was a pirate. She had said she loved him. And she had smiled at him the way she would smile at a man she cared for.

At Will.

There he was again. Will. Always getting in the way. And yet never there when you needed him. Bloody whelp. Jack rose to his feet, looking down on Elizabeth. She was the only thing he could bring himself to care about. Except himself. He had to care for himself. He wanted to live. Who didn't? Surely Elizabeth would understand…

He was supposed to be sleeping. He was supposed to have passed out from all the rum. That's what he wanted Elizabeth to believe. That he was a rum-soaked pirate. Becase essentially, he was. And if she believed that, it would be alright for him to run away like a yellow dog. She would not expect anything else.

And yet he wanted her to.

Why would he want anyone to expect something from him now? He had never, not once in his life, cared what others thought of him. And yet here he was, wanting to see himself through her eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes that saw not a pirate, but a man. A man who was capable of great things. Heroic things, even. If only he dared to take the risk and leave himself behind…

_It'll be one pistol as before…_

The voice was returning to his head. He didn't want it to… But when he looked down on Elizabeth, thinking it would be the last time, that he would have to leave her here somehow, or at least hide somewhere, it returned with an ecco like a gun shot in his mind -

_and you can be the gentleman _

He could never be a gentleman. He was a pirate. A pirate. He bent over and removed a strand of hair from Elizabeth's eyes. He thought she was smiling. Like she would smile to a man… who was she dreaming of?

_and shoot the lady _

He could never do that. It was probably better to leave her here. She would find away. She was the governor's daughter. She would be found.

He couldn't help but to hear his own words as lies, ringing in his head. As the wind blew across the breeze and resounded in the trees, as a low moan of crickets sounded on the island, as he noticed that the only light they now had to light up the beach was the light from the moon and the stars, as his heart leaped with joy at the sight of Elizabeth's figure lying quietly, peacefully at rest on the beach in her white gown, he knew that the voices were not telling the truth. That he was lying to himself. That she had transformed him. That he was no longer truly a pirate. That he was a man.

_and starve to death yourself._

That he would have to shoot Elizabeth. And starve to death himself.  
The moon smiled down upon him as he picked up his gun, running his fingers carefully along the barrel -


	6. Rats

**Chapter 6: Rats**

Every moment he was awake, Will knew he was being taken further and further away from Elizabeth and quite possibly closer to his own death. There would be no rescue. Not for him, not for her. Without him, she was still the governor's daughter, and it would give her a chance of getting out of any situation. Without her, he was just a blacksmith, a simple man who nobody would bother to rescue. He knew his worth. He knew his place. And even though the night looked dark in the small cell of the Pearl, Will Turner's future looked even darker.

He didn't like the fact that Elizabeth was stuck with Jack Sparrow on that island. Not at all. He had learned that Jack Sparrow was a sort of character he would _never _figure out. Not in a million years. He would act for his own benefit. And Will would…

"Well," he said quietly to himself, "you won't be acting much for anyone at all, will you?" A sadness grew on his face. He felt so useless. "Jack was right," he muttered to himself under his tired breath, "you really are incapable." There was a rattling noise as the rat that inhabited his tiny cell ran across the floor once more. He had grown quite fond of the rat. It was company. Of a sort. Kind of like Jack.

" _The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do and what a man can't do –"_

Jack could do anything. Will knew this. That's why he was dangerous. But more importantly, that was also the reason why he was still alive. Jack could survive under even the bleakest circumstances. Just like the rat. Will shook his head and slumped down on the rough wooden planks. The rat was small enough to simply run through between the bars of the cage. Will was too big. He knew Jack could do anything. Except one thing. There was one thing, Jack could _never_ compromise.

His freedom. Jack was like the rat, always finding his way to freedom, always living in freedom, with freedom. Will was caged. Always had been. Will was a blacksmith.

The rat didn't even look at him once.  
Soon it was gone, and the only sound he could hear was the creaking of the old Pearl as the waves of the night crashed against Her body.

* * *

He had seen the smoke. It could be a sign somehow, he wasn't sure – but it was all he had to navigate by, the only clue on this was sea, the only _hope_ he had of ever finding Elizabeth – or… Or what was left of her…

The thought that Elizabeth might not still be alive had plagued him all night. He had not been able to get any sleep. His face was pale and cold, his eyes were baggy and his throat was sore. But the only pain he felt was inside him. His heart would not stop racing. The thought that it might already be too late to save Elizabeth, sweet, beautiful Elizabeth… His Elizabeth… It was unbearable. Images of Elizabeth had been flashing before his eyes all night. Most of the time his mind played tricks on him – Elizabeth in a flash, lying dead, her neck in a curious angle, blood spilling from her lips, eyes wide open wide, white, as white as two eggs popping out of her head - and the blood – so much blood -

His eyes were blood shot. He felt a hot tear snug its way along his nose. He felt the anxiety rise in his chest as the sun started crawling up on the horizon, spreading a pale orange light on the deck and turning the white sales a pale yellow.

It was morning.  
Suddenly a small speck of land appeared on the horizon. Small puffs of smoke were still rising in the cool morning air -


	7. Too late

**Too late**

He was looking as the pale orange light crept up the beach, revealing everything to the world, bringing light back into the world. He was listening as the jungle woke up, so many noises were returning now that the dangers of the night were over. He was looking at the orange light that was gleaming in Elizabeth Swann's hair. It was all messy. He was tired. Shaking. His heart wasn't beating normally. It was as though it was trying to decide whether to stop beating or not. He didn't really care anymore. He was dizzy.

As the sun rose with a pale orange light, he was listening to the distant, beautiful sound of Elizabeth Swann's light breathing. It made a world of difference. It was the only sound he cared about. Which was why he had to end it.

He was still holding the gun in his hand. It was still pointed towards her head. A beautiful spot… He had been looking at it all night in the warm light of the fire that had slowly burned out. It was the soft little part just above the line of her cheekbone. He had caressed it many times through the night. With rough, shaking hands. She had even smiled in her sleep once at his touch. But now he had to face the new day. She had to face the new day, with fear, hunger… They were both still here. Still -

He was still holding the gun in his hand. It was still pointing towards the beautiful woman who lay sprawled on the white sand.  
He was still holding the gun in his hand.

He was still holding the gun in his hand as he looked up to find a gleaming white sail on the horizon.  
He was still holding the gun in his hand as he looked back down on Elizabeth, his dear Elizabeth.  
His dear Elizabeth who looked back up at him with scared, big brown eyes.

"Jack…"

He had never seen anyone so scared and hurt at the same time -  
"Elizabeth –"

His breath stopped short.  
The ship was coming. She was awake. They could save her.

But he could not be saved. He would die. And not only would he die. He would die a pirate.  
He would die a pirate rather than the man she had seen through those big, beautiful brown eyes that were now looking up at him, so scared, so terrified – the eyes that were now looking up not at a man, put at a pirate –


End file.
